


Bro's Swag

by Broba



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-21
Updated: 2012-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-31 13:25:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broba/pseuds/Broba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was an awful lot of fun as I recall, even if it was a little nutty in places. As the kinkmeme prompt went, what if Bro could teach Tavros to have a bit more confidence, because Bro has all the swag!</p>
<p>This is part of the AU cycle that includes PLATONIC BONDING and Being upon the dreaded nature of the Brazilian Merciless Dancing Centipede, and I seriously need to find an easier way to describe this collection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

All the trolls had to support themselves, and that meant jobs. They found work to suit them, as well as they could. Where possible they fitted themselves into a nocturnal routine, as Gamzee had with his pizza delivery gig, but Tavros hadn't been so lucky. The only job he had been able to snatch and hang onto was in a regular human store, selling various electronic components. At least it was air-conditioned and he could lurk at the back, out of the sunlight.  
  
The place was stuffed full of electronics gear. The owner, Mr. Kasparian could compete with the big-box stores because he had a large back catalogue of older equipment no longer on general sale, and because he would also buy and sell directly from the public as a kind of pawnbroker for unwanted gear. Tavros liked it there, he could work steadily in peace and quiet, and Mr. Kasparian recognised that the diligent troll would be a good and trusted worker if left to his own devices. So it was that Tavros spent his days, rolling about the shop floor on his chair. He didn't miss the robotic legs that he had briefly been given during what he thought of as the Old Days, he couldn't miss something that had come and gone again so quickly.  
  
All told, it had been what he counted a good day. Another good day to add to his collection of good days, that he hoarded away and polished, taking them out to contemplate on the days that were not so good. There was no sound at all except for the tiny rhythmic squeak from one of his axles. He had a heavy box on a cart behind him, which was attached to his chair by a small length of rope- an arrangement which he had worked out to his satisfaction. He was nearly as quick as an able-bodied worker, and he didn't have to stop for a break as he rarely got too tired with his way of doing things. All told, he thought he had things worked out quite well. All told, he had things figured out for himself.  
  
Good times end quickly, however. He heard her before he saw her, the unmistakeable click-click of heels, the quick, aggressive footsteps. _Vriska._  
  
She flounced her way into the store dramatically as though she owned the place, the way she dramatically flounced eeeeeeeeverywhere. She came up on him from behind and ruffled his hair, which he hated, and casually began rearranging small items on a shelf, which he hated.  
  
"Ta-a-a-avros," she drawled slowly, "I need some more money-y-y-y," her voice took on a wheedling, demanding note.  
"Ah, uh, I gave you some just before and, uh well I don't have any."  
"Oh come on," she placed her hands on his shoulders in a way she thought was very seductive, "You always have a little bit hidden away, just like the careful little nutbeast you are!"  
  
She was teasing and playful, but insistent. Tavros knew that if she didn't get her way, she would get less playful, and he didn't feel like having to clear up the mess from another of her tantrums. She refused to get a real job, and went from scheme to scheme, going for every ridiculous plan to avoid doing real work. Usually she was trying to earn money in some lewd manner. She had been an erotic dancer, a chatline operator and a nude model, but she just didn't have the focus even to manage that for long. So, when rent time came, or she was out of food, or she had bills to pay, or else she was just bored, she invariably came to shake down Tavros.  
  
Vriska began whining, pulling Tavros back and forth by his shoulders as she did. She was teasing still, but she was certainly not above tipping him straight out of his chair if he refused her too long. Tavros was already fumbling for his wallet to get it over with and try to persuade her to leave him alone. There was a ringing sound, somewhere in the background.  
  
"Tav-ros! Tav-ros!" She pushed and pulled him with each syllable, "Come o-o-o-on!"  
"St-Stop that Vriska-a-a-a!" He wailed, "I'm going to fall off!"  
"I don't care, give me some dollars! I need a drink, Tavvie!"  
  
Tavros moaned incoherently, he couldn't handle the way she just inserted herself into his personal space and occupied it carelessly, he would have emptied his bank account and given it all to her if he thought she would just leave him alone, but she always came back. That ringing wouldn't stop. They were in among the high aisles of goods in the middle of the shop space, and Tavros caught a glimpse of his desk and cash register out of the corner of his eye, someone was stood there repeatedly patting the old-fashioned hotel service bell Mr. Kasparian had put there. Tavros tried to call out an apology but Vriska wouldn't let him pay attention to anything but her.  
  
"Tavros! You're being such a little prick!" She had picked up several colourful Earth terms.  
"I'm sorry! I'm s-sorry!"  
  
At the desk, Bro was losing the last little bit of his patience rapidly. He heard the confusion and casually sauntered over to where Vriska was tormenting Tavros. He recognised the boy with the horns, one of the trolls. He often came here, he could pick up some of the sickliest sweet gear at Mr. Kasparian's. He had seen an original Moog keyboard in the back, the last time he was around, and he had known at once that he just had to have it. Laying out the harsh on a crackly old pre-Yamaha would be the most ironic. The most very ironic. Vironic.  
  
"Bitch, the fuck out!" He snapped impatiently, dropping the word "get" because he was in a hurry.  
  
Vriska stopped, Tavros looked around in horror. No one spoke to her like that. No one. She glared straight up at Bro, like he gave a shit. He wasn't even looking at her.  
  
"Hey kid," he addressed Tavros, "you still got that sweet-ass Moog with the original maple wood veneer? I'm all about that shit."  
"Um, I think," he began.  
"What," said Vriska in her special scary voice, "did you just say, human?"  
"Whoa, bitch ain't deaf. I ain't wanted to say anything about it 'cause it's wrong to mock the retarded," he glared down at Vriska and jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "bitch be leavin', I got business. You a business bitch? I ain't see no briefcase so I guess you ain't a business bitch. So fuck out of our business."  
Vriska spluttered and smacked Tavros on the chest, "well? Are you going to let a human talk to me like that?"  
"Um, I don't think I can really tell, a cus, a customer, what they can't, uh, say."  
"Tavros!" She actually stamped her foot, petulantly, but saw that he wasn't going to do anything.  
  
Vriska turned her weird eightfold gaze on Bro, stretching out her hands with a grin, real fingers and metallic fingers wiggling in the air as she extended her mental abilities. Bro stared, and stood up straight.  
  
"You'll pay for that, human, that disrespect!" She hissed, "I'll make you suffer!"  
"Okay," said Bro casually. Vriska blinked.  
"I'll make you paaaaaaaay!"  
"Hokay, go ahead," Bro spread his arms, "come at me."  
  
Vriska was nonplussed. She _had_ been coming at him. He should have been squirming about on the floor under the compelling force of her mind powers, but the man was implacable. She tried wiggling her fingers some more, but it was like trying to influence a block of stone. Bro smirked. He smirked at her. Vriska let out a strangled yell and stomped off.  
  
"Come back bitch," called Bro, "I totally felt the burn right there, you schooled my ass down! Class is still in bitch, the children need their lesson! Kids goin' all not able to read right 'cause you gave up the schoolin' half way through!" He sniggered at her retreating back. "Bitch ain't got no stayin' power."  
"I don't," said Tavros in amazement, "by which I mean I, uh, can't believe you duh, did that!"  
"Did what, little rollin' man?"  
"You totally just stared her d-down! I never saw anyone be so confident in front of Vriska before!"  
"Yeah, so? I ain't got time for backin' down, I entirely have no backin' ability. I'm without that whole reverse gear."  
"I, uh, am very impressed by your, general swagger and apparent attitude."  
"Sure. Ain't no thing, I'm just a shao-lin pirate in a world of tiny bitches is all."  
"Uh, I think, I want to know more about your, uh, ways and means, in a general sense."  
"Yeah sure," Bro waved a hand impatiently, "but let's talk about that Moog. I'm lookin' for somethin' entirely makin' a noise like having every bad thing at once happen all up in your ear holes."  
  
Tavros was able to find what Bro needed, and they agreed a price. Bro was all about the business, but he would chatter about things at the same time, he talked about his website and the growing market for the pornography of puppets. Tavros was bemused, and intrigued. He realised that Vriska's power of mental domination failed to affect Bro because he was a puppeteer too, he was like her in many ways. But where Vriska was a slob who could barely manage to scrape enough money together to feed herself without shaking him down, Bro was an entrepreneur, a businessman who needed no-one. Bro would never let anyone push him around. Bro did what he wanted, and people got out of his way because he was a man who had things to do and places to be. He was, in short, everything that Tavros felt he was not.  
  
Bro ended up staying longer then he had intended, the kid with the horns was stumbling and awkward which normally would just piss Bro off, but he was adorable in a mildly pathetic way. Bro had lurked around Mr. Karpasian's for years, hunting down cheap bargain basement equipment when he needed it, selling his old stuff when he needed to eat or to get Dave anything. He had therefore noticed Tavros around before but not given him a second thought until then. The kid wasn't too bad, he just needed some confidence. He needed someone to put some sauce on his steak, was all.  
  
When Bro departed with his carefully wrapped and boxed up Moog, Tavros heaved a sigh. He opened his hand and looked at the tiny fuse he held. Without it, the Moog would not work and there was nowhere else an original could be found within a hundred miles. He smiled, and looked up the address details he had taken when making the sale. It was nothing more then customer service. It would be remiss of him not to head over after work- hell maybe even before the end of his shift- and give Mr. Strider the fuse. His employer would expect no less of him. The fact that he had removed the fuse himself, palming it carefully away while he wrapped the device, was neither here nor there. He would simply have to pay a visit to Bro.


	2. Chapter 2

Tavros made his way across town, to the Strider residence. He was agog with possibility, and didn't speak the entire taxi-ride. He could only imagine that this human, who had faced down Vriska as though it weren't even anything but a thing, must be some kind of magician of sorts. He was filled with visions of Pupa Pan and the magical adventures he had FLARP'ed. Even to this day, Tavros felt that those experiences were memories, not stories.  
  
He imagined Bro as a powerful and omnipotent wizard, a teacher who could bring out his inner confidence. Perhaps one day it would be Rufio wearing Tavros on the inside. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself, and the driver wondered what on Earth he had picked up this afternoon.  
  
The apartment block was a problem. Tavros could get the elevator to the top floor, however there was still a flight of stairs to negotiate up to the relevant apartment, an addition from after the original building was completed. Despite appearances, Tavros could handle stairs, they were just a major pain in the ass. In effect he would have to drag himself up, pulling his chair after him. The thing was made of tubular metal and lightweight materials, it really wasn't as difficult as it seemed, but Tavros hated having to resort to crawling like a grub in a public place. There was nothing else for it, he levered himself to the ground, careful not to land on the stumps of his amputated legs, and got to work. Up ahead he could hear raised, angry voices through the thin walls. He couldn't make out specific words but he could hear the low bass notes of an adult voice he assumed belonged to Bro and a higher voice piping angrily around, like a bird yelling at a dog. There was a sound of breaking glass, and objects being scattered over the floor. Tavros had only managed to get up to the top step when Dave Strider bust out of the apartment backwards, flipping birds all the way.  
  
"Fuckin' puppets Bro! It's all puppets with you now, you're sick!"  
From inside, "FUCK," then a pause, "YOU!"  
  
Tavros was surprised, he was still a little hazy on the significance of human surnames and he had not assumed there would be any relationship between Bro and Dave, as Trolls lacked a familial structure defined by naming conventions.  
  
"Dave human!"  
  
Too late. Dave collided with Tavros, tripped over a horn and when he encountered the wheelchair it was all over- he tumbled down the stairs hard. In an instant Bro appeared at the top of the staircase to point at Dave with all his fingers and yell,  
  
"I warned you! I warned you about stairs!" He took a deep breath. "Motherfucker!"  
  
Tavros waited patiently. Bro actually extended the last syllable of "Motherfucker" all the while that Dave was rolling, the tone rising like a kettle on the boil until as Dave landed the curse was a high pitched squeal that tailed off abruptly.  
  
It was only then that Bro deigned to notice Tavros, acknowledging him with a grunt. Dave was pulling himself together, and patted off the dust furiously, throwing a few epithets up at Bro while Tavros struggled alone back into his chair. Dave noticed this and pointed it out.  
  
"Jesus, asshole much? Aren't you going to help Tav?"  
"Motherfucker wants help, motherfucker gonn' ask for help," replied Bro gnomically.  
"It's okay," hissed Tavros as he got himself in place again. In fact, it was the first time in as long as he could remember that someone had just assumed he could deal with something himself. It was refreshing, just being this close to Bro.  
  
Dave made a dismissive gesture, that all of this was far beneath him, and stormed off. Bro went back to his door but just stood and waited. Tavros found his throat had closed up, he barely knew what to say. Bro gave it a little while, but eventually shrugged and closed the door.  
  
"Uhm, wait!" Cried Tavros. The door opened a crack, suspiciously.  
"Dave won't be back for a few hours, you c'n wait out there if you like. I should have figured it, he knows all you Troll guys, right?"  
"I, uh, didn't come to see him,"  
"Yeah? What then? Don't keep my busy ass watin' little man."  
"I needed to talk to you!" It came out louder then Tavros had intended, and he then lowered his voice far more then he meant to in compensation, "it's about the Moog." He felt like a pathetic wriggler.  
"You talkin' about my fine-ass Moog I only just got? Haven't even given her a try yet, this bitch is going to wail."  
  
The door opened, the invitation was obvious. Bro would gladly discuss the finer points of ironically discordant synth madness with anyone. Tavros rolled on in and started to explain, he had the story all worked out, how he had found the missing component of the Moog and travelled up town to deliver it, but Bro wasn't especially interested. His attention wavered between projects easily, and as Tavros came into the living area of the apartment he saw that the place had been converted into some kind of a miniature film studio, with lights hanging from ceiling fixtures and three camera arranged facing the couch. Upon it, a pair of plush, Reubenesque puppets were in a pose of embrace. Oddly, the little tableau exuded a sense of nudity and taboo, in a way that he found hard to define.  
  
Bro caught him looking and was obviously delighted. He came up behind Tavros and put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Look at 'em," he commanded, "you can see it right? They're so... present. So much in the moment, right?"  
"I, uh, I think I can. And, what is this?"  
"Puppetry, little man. Puppets-s-s-s," he hissed it, "little model fuckers. You Trolls have puppets right?"  
"Uhm, yes, well sort of, by which I mean suh, something like, uh, that."  
"A puppet is, like, a model of a thing but it's also an extension of a thing. Like, the puppet isn't just pretending to be something, it's part of it." Bro licked his lips, he was just staring at the couch, "the big thing becomes the little thing, the little thing becomes the big thing, and... there's sometimes... strings."  
  
Tavros glanced to the side, careful not to move his head too quickly and risk goring Bro. He was certain that a lot of what was being said was simply too human-specific to really register with him. A human would be able to make proper sense of this, he told himself, chiding himself mentally for once again trying to engage a human in even the most basic socialisation and failing miserably. Trolls had things simple, things fell into quadrants and after an initially violent period you knew which quadrant you were dealing with and that was that. Humans existed on this enormous spectrum that shifted constantly, with no one sure exactly which hue anyone else was shaded.  
  
"I feel like you are explaining a big thing that, uh, I don't th-think I am properly going to, understand."  
Bro flexed his fingers on Tavros' shoulder slightly and the Troll had to fight to suppress a shiver. "It's about feelin' not understandin'. You place the puppets just right, you set things goin', and it's like you're creatin' a whole little world and you can take little bits of whatever you like out of this world and put it all in there, in new combinations and diff'rent configurations, it's all just mixing. Everything is."  
"You, uh, like being in control of things?"  
"Of course. That's what it's all about, layin' down the most sickest of low-down beats, or puppets... it's all control. Got to be in the driving seat if you feel like puttin' your foot down, you know?"  
  
Bro bit his lip. Tavros could see the realisation go through his mind. Tavros didn't have any feet to put down. Moments like this were when people started getting embarrassed and apologising to him, which invariably made him feel embarrassed himself on their behalf, he hated that.  
  
Bro snickered, "Hey I just realised,"  
"Uhm?"  
"You totally ain't puttin' any foot down! A-har-har-har!"  
  
He clapped Tavros on the shoulder, and despite himself Tavros couldn't help but laugh too. Bro was totally at ease, nothing bothered him in the least. Not even Vriska. Tavros found himself fighting back a tear. He was just sat there, his usual dumbass crippled self, and Bro didn't mind him even a little. Bro didn't think he was bothersome or upsetting, he was entirely at ease with Tavros simply being himself. That, more then anything, was new.


	3. Chapter 3

The evening had taken a turn for the strange, Tavros knew it. He assumed Bro knew it too, but it was hard to put a finger on what had changed for them. Perhaps it had begun when Bro began arranging the next puppet tableaux he intended to film. Tavros had been only too glad to help, he was a perfect camera dolly without even trying. Bro took on a new aspect when he was getting properly into it, the way he would arrange and rearrange things, he had regaled Tavros with a stream of consciousness blast of mind-thoughts the whole time to explain what he would only refer to as "his process."  
  
Harsh lights dangling down blinded him, the heat of it threatened to smother him, and the blank eyes of the felt performers accused him. Tavros was sweating profusely, he felt a rivulet of it crawl uncomfortably down his neck. Bro would not stop for a break, nothing was stopping him till dawn or so he said. Tavros was clear that he could leave any time he wanted to and Bro would not lift a finger to stop him, but perhaps it was the knowledge that he would not be stopped that kept Tavros rooted right where he was. The thought of coming so close to something that was growing and tumbling through his chest and his mind, and simply backing away from it, was dreadful to him. At some point, his shirt came off. This didn't phase Bro in the least as it was just the kind of way that the night was going by then.  
  
Bro took off his cap to mop his brow in the sweltering funk and Tavros leaned over to look up at him. In doing, he nearly dropped the camera until Bro yelped and darted at him. Bro caught up the precious gear moving faster then Tavros could fathom, and showing a flicker of irritation he clapped Tavros across the back with his palm. The sound of it cracked the air smartly in two, even though it didn't even hurt- Tavros was nothing if not well developed in upper body strength, he was a grey solid block of teak. He looked up at Bro with wide yellow eyes, Bro stared down at him impassively- or perhaps he didn't- behind obsidian shades. Suddenly Bro did it again- not because of temper, but this time because he just wanted to. Tavros shook for a moment, he literally sat and shook, gritting his teeth as something like a vibration trembled his whole body. Tavros couldn't stop him- the solid knowledge in his own mind that he didn't want to stop it made resistance impossible.  
  
Tavros felt fingertips move for a moment over the muscles and planes of his back before withdrawing, Bro turned back to his work. The puppets were waiting, patiently as ever. They laboured under the lights, Bro brought out some kind of fizzing human beverages that Tavros found far too sweet for his palate but refreshing enough. While they were taking a break from the intense pace of whatever it was Tavros had found himself roped into, they talked.  
  
"I, uh, what you did before, uh, with Vriska, I should thank you for it."  
"Ain't no kind of a thing, horn-dogg. What you meanin'?"  
"Uhm, nuh-normally she always gets what she. Wants."  
"You mean, she rollin' you other times too?"  
"Mm."  
"How often?"  
"Uh, I don't know, not too much."  
"Regular?"  
"Y-yes, I suppose so, she visits me quite often. I mean to say, when she needs something."  
"Dude, you're letting that line-stepping fucker of a weird eye lookin' bitch all up in your face like that, what you thinkin'?"  
"I don't know, I just, it's hard when she's around. I mean, it's always been like that. Ever since we were young. She always gets what she wuh." He paused and frowned, concentrating, "Wants."  
"Not out of me she don't. I'm a locked fuckin' vault, my man."  
"You are the first, I don't know how you, do it."  
  
Tavros flicked his eyes up to regard Bro, and down again. Bro was perched on the edge of a chair, he looked like a white raven. He was close, his knees almost touched the place where Tavros imagined that his own knees would have been. Bro stared at him until Tavros looked up. Very slowly, Bro drank down the last of his Mountain Dew and tossed the can, crushed, in a corner.  
  
"Well my man, let ol' Bro tell ya. When it's fuckin' coming, it's like smoke," he made wafting motions upward, miming the rising smoke of a fire, "it's like I can feel fire around my feet and I can smell the smoke of it all risin', and that's how I know it's now or never. Ain't no backin' down 'cause that's only walkin' into fire too."  
"I don't-"  
"Sh, sh, listen,"  
"Mm."  
"So I feel it risin', yeah? The heat, the smoke, I mean it's all in my head and shit," he poked an index finger against his temple and grinned lopsidedly, "but I feel it man, the fires. And when those flames are lickin' up, and the smoke is stingin' my eyes, and I can smell my shoes burnin', well there's nothin' else for it but to fuckin' go for it, man. You got to throw it all out there, don't hold anythin' back. I don't even care, man, I mean I might get my ass handed to me one of these days I don't even know, that don't even enter into my mental thinkin'. I'm like a fuckin' samurai. You know what that is? There's nothin' else but death and the edge of a blade. Don't gotta fight it, just throw myself into battle 'cause I'm the fuckin' blade and fuckin' death."  
"I, uh, you looked so calm though,"  
"Fuckin' for real man, I'm the surface of a still fuckin' pond, but drop a rock at me and you're gonna get splashed."  
  
Bro stood up abruptly and went to the refrigerator, taking out a pair of blades. He held onto one, and the other he flourished dramatically, reversing his grip expertly and holding it our to Tavros.  
  
"Oh, I couldn't, I mean I don't, with swords I mean, it's not my favoured-"  
"Take the fuckin' handle or take the blade little man, one way or the other. Do it."  
  
Tavros reached out gingerly and took the offered sword. He preferred a lengthier weapon, preferably a lance, which he found easier to handle and balance one-handedly. He smiled sheepishly and waved it. Bro responded by lashing out, nearly knocking the sword from his grip.  
  
"Don't fuckin' play around, I can smell that smoke risin'. Better be ready!"  
"Oh! Oh but I couldn't!"  
"Yeah well you better learn how pretty fuckin' quick, yo."  
  
Bro did it again, knocking Tavros' sword with his own, it made an ugly clashing sound.  
  
"I'm really not in the mood, Mister Strider human, uh, I'm not."  
"Mood?" Bro cackled and knocked his sword aside easily, the tip hovering an inch from Tavros' bare chest, "mood is for cattle and loveplay, yo! Better find the mood if you wanna rule the universe!"  
"What?"  
"Dune motherfucker, look it up! David Lynch is a goddamn motherfuckin' genius touched by Christ and full on touchin' back. Come on! Sword up little man!"  
  
Tavros breathed heavily, he didn't understand but it seemed like Bro was serious, and he really didn't know swords at all. It wasn't fair! He wasn't prepared for this- he didn't even know what this was, hot tears threatened the corners of his eyes and he caught his breath. It was just not fair! Bro danced back and forward, suddenly he was coming again and the swords clashed, his wrist jarred painfully.  
  
"Holdin' on too tight there, you're not loose little man! Got to be loose in this game!"  
"I don't nuh, know how to play this game!"  
"Tough shit, you're already on fire an' there's no water between here'n hell! You're gonna burn if you don't do somethin'! Fight!"  
  
Tavros tried, he waved his sword ineffectually but from a sitting position he barely had any reach and no leverage, it was no threat. Even if the Bro human was crazed, he was right about one thing- Tavros did feel hot. The blush of shame was spreading across his cheeks and back, his grey skin was clammy with sweat, and he was starting to panic. No way back, nothing in front of him but Bro who was armed and intent on attacking him. Tavros was left with nothing- no options, no way out, just a claustrophobic feeling of being hemmed in by fate and circumstance. He imagined that there really was a fire- all around, flames gouting through the horrible carpeting and up the grimy walls, fire everywhere hot enough to crisp his hair off and blister his skin. There was one single way to go- forwards- and that way lay, what? Death? Tavros panted softly and gripped his sword. It was stupid and unfair, and he was weak and incapable but he had no options at all really, he couldn't bear the heat any more.  
  
With a guttural roar he flung his sword at Bro, who twisted expertly to slash it out of the air. In the split second Tavros had his hands on his wheels and shoved as hard as he could. He rolled forwards like the collapse of a mountain peak and lowered his head instinctively. He didn't even feel it as Bro's sword scored across his shoulder in passing. He flexed his back and threw his head up. To both of their amazement Bro was caught by his horns and tossed through the air to collapse heavily against a wall, hard enough to shake plaster loose from the eavings and raise a tremendous crash.  
  
Bro pulled himself to his feet with a grunt and Tavros looked on in horror. Blood slicked his shoulder in a brownish cap and sweat dripped into his eye sand stung. He was terrified Bro would come at him and slice him apart, he hadn't meant to be so violent. But Bro was grinning madly, and he ran up to Tavros and embraced him, picking him up bodily and squeezing him tightly.  
  
"You did it, fuckin' raging bull! You seen the fires, right?"  
"Suh, sick fuckin' f-fires!"  
"Damn fuckin' straight! Sickest of fires, mess with the bull and you get the strictest discipline of the horns, am I fuckin' right?" He span around and Tavros hugged him back, he was almost sobbing with relief and happiness.  
"Uhh, yeah! It's just, you know, the way it is, you know?"  
  
And it was at that moment that Dave returned. He stepped into the room and saw Bro and Tavros embracing in the middle of some kind of whirlwind of strife, madness and Mountain Dew. Both of them had what looked like Tavros' bodily fluids smeared on them, Tavros was practically naked, there were swords all over the place, a puppet porn scene had been bisected by a flying katana that was now embedded in the couch. Dave just stared at them. Bro laughed.  
  
"Check it, little baby bro, this is all of exactly what it looks like!" Announced Bro.  
"Uhm, yes, that's right," agreed Tavros.  
"You just walked in on some sweet man bonding all over here!"  
"That is correct,"  
"This is a room of men right now. You got to be a minimum of swarthy to get into this party!"  
"That is what is happening, the man party."  
"You here for the man party baby brother?"  
"Because this is a man party, of which, there is no party like one."  
Dave just double-pointed to the imaginary exit stage left, "I'll, uh, leave you to it then," and he absconded without a second glance back.  
Bro set Tavros down and smirked, "Sick burn."  
Tavros nodded gravely in agreement, "Yes, the sickest."


End file.
